


We Live For Those Who Died To See Us Walk In The Sun

by Zayrastriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Platonic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zayrastriel/pseuds/Zayrastriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer hates demons as much as he loves Lilith; his china doll of a daughter that he rebuilt from shards and dust into something new, something twisted (and it was his fault but he can’t regret it).  And so he weeps when she sees her body, finally dead for the last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Live For Those Who Died To See Us Walk In The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm just writing every combination of character I can think of now, whether platonic or not.  
> Set within the assumed canon of my Lucifer/Michael fic _The Fall_ (though it's not necessary to read that first); Lucifer meets Lilith in the ten thousand years between him storming out of Heaven and leading the fallen angels against it.
> 
> On another note, I'm interested to know if anyone else has looked into the background on Lilith (it's definitely not this, but it's fascinating.)

He first meets Lilith as she lies broken and dying, olive skin muddied with a mix of blood and dirt that clots her hair and saturates the plain, homespun robe that couldn’t shield her from the stones.  (Stones, Lucifer knows, because over the past few hundred years he’s had a vague awareness of corpses, shattered with judgement and condemnation, on the outskirts of his desert.)

With a mild curiosity (she’s alive, the first living thing he’s seen since Gabriel tried unsuccessfully to talk him back into returning home) he approaches as she coughs weakly, dry, hacking sounds under the burning heat of the sun (not that he can feel it, not truly.)

“ _Help_ ,” is all she can muster, “ _help_ ,” and Lucifer has seen enough; he can _sight_ the fissures in her bones, the internal bleeding and pierced lung, the shard from her left femoral heading slowly but surely towards her barely-beating heart.

He turns away just as she rasps out one final word – “ _Angel_ ”.

It’s the first time he’s been identified as such in centuries – can’t help but flinch (translating as a twitching neck muscle to his latest vessel, a slender boy with too-large eyes) even as the surety of that knowledge that he is an _ANGEL_ warms his Grace, so cold after his long absence from his Father’s light.

It must be that she’s dying, so close to being taken that she can see his true form – or at least his wings, arching unseen wide and luminous behind him – and it won’t hurt her (because nothing can do that now.)

Looking back at the crumpled form, one that might have been voluptuous if it weren’t shrunken with malnutrition and starvation, he sees her head lift slowly, agonisingly, her cracked lips parting as silent supplication shapes them into the beginnings of a word.

Lucifer does not like humanity (and that is an understatement, perhaps too much of one.)

But he this is too much for even him – not like watching a cockroach scuttling across pristine marble, tainted and disgusting, but instead a one-winged butterfly, struggling in futility – and so, with a soft touch of his fingers to her bloody forehead he takes her words from her mouth and her life from her body.

 _\- Light-mother warm soft love-father stern disappointed she wishes she was a boy-Ruth games hiding behind haystacks sun light happy sister-hand dress shifting under fingers on a leg_ you’re so pretty, so soft _incomprehension father not my fault-Adam Ruth married him last month too strong why me Ruth don’t hate me not my fault-NOT MY FAULT-pain pain stones skin hurts body hurts God why me kill them kill them all too weak wings ANGEL God help me kill them hurts I hurt revenge I HURT-_

He is not his Father.

But his Father is not listening.

And someone should.

When Lucifer reaches out into the dark, he expects Death’s clammy grip, halting his power with impersonal, impeachable restraints (he’s met Death once and never wants to again) – but while he feels the presence brush against him, it drifts back

(as though this is meant to happen)

He brings her back into her healed body, but there’s a disconnect there as though she’s wearing clothing and not moulded into her physicality, and it’s fascinating and wrong and so _new_.

“Revenge, you wanted,” Lucifer says quietly, vessel’s voice hoarse with disuse.

She pushes herself to her feet with a strange, non-human grace.

“Yes, my Lord,” she says humbly.

 _My Lord_.  That sounds wrong, not something that should be directed at him when his Father will always be the only Lord he will bow to –

But his Father didn’t answer the girl’s prayer.

“Lucifer,” Lucifer corrects wearily.

She smiles tentatively.  “Lord Lucifer.”

It’ll do for now, till he can rectify her mistaken beliefs and show her that his Father is the only true Lord.

Later, when the men who stoned her lie dead, while Adam (who pinned her down on the bed he’d shared with her sister and tore her robe open, pressing bruises to her breasts before claiming that it had been she who had enchanted him) lies in small chunks of flesh and bone, he glances at her.

He tells her, “I don’t know your name,” even though it’s not precisely true; he absorbed that too, but he chooses not to know.

She smiles, bows her head.

“Lilith.”

(His first demon, the only one who didn’t Fall or Turn.  Sweetness turned to a raging splendour of power and fury.)

 

~~~

 

“Lilith,” he whispers to the sound of shattering glass, standing over the body that housed her spirit when Samuel Winchester finally, irrevocably destroyed her.

She had to die – and that was clever, truly clever, that final trap of Michael’s.  But Michael’s never understood that love might transcend Heaven – and they know it well, he and his brother( _loversoulmate_ ) – but it sinks deep below Hell in equal measure.  Love for duty, duty to die.

Till the tears wash into his Grace, absorbing into the greater mass of pain and betrayal and sorrow that permeates every part of his soul, Lucifer stands vigil, incorporeal and too-powerful in the mortal world.

He doesn’t know what to say, till he’s almost at the door; and then he does, and it is perfect.

“They will burn,” Lucifer promises.  “All of them.”

As he leaves the church, it dissolves into dust behind him


End file.
